


If It's Love

by Cheshire_Cat



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Bit of Narry in the background, Fluff, M/M, Sorry no Zayn in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-19
Updated: 2013-01-19
Packaged: 2017-11-26 01:12:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/644888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Cat/pseuds/Cheshire_Cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just three little words. Three tiny, simple, one-syllable words. So why can't Liam say them?</p>
<p>
  <em>“Now are you going to kiss me or not?”</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Louis chose the first option, snaking his arms around Liam’s waist and pulling him close. His hands found the twin indents on the small of Liam’s back and he fitted his fingertips to them, loving the warmth and softness of Liam’s skin against his own.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	If It's Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sassslingingsasser.tumblr.com](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Sassslingingsasser.tumblr.com).



> This story's a birthday present for the beautiful Katie over at sassslingingsasser.tumblr.com! Happy birthday, babe.

Louis woke up to the smell of bacon wafting through the little rented cabin. Upon rolling over and finding nothing but empty sheets where Liam used to be, he figured something good was going on, so he got up, threw on a pair of sweatpants, and went down to the kitchen.

As he’d suspected, his boyfriend was standing at the stove, monitoring a snapping, sizzling pan full of bacon.  He wore a pair of Louis’ boxers and, over them, a “Kiss The Cook” apron they’d found tucked away in one of the kitchen cabinets.  Louis came up behind him and wrapped his arms around Liam’s waist, kissing his neck.

“Is that for me?”

Liam swatted him with the tongs he’d been using to turn the bacon.

“Good morning to you, too.  And only half of it’s for you.”

Louis trailed his lips down Liam’s neck and along his shoulder.  “Three quarters?”

“ _No_. Stop that.”

Louis rested his chin on Liam's shoulder and smiled at him.

“I’m only doing what the apron says,” he said innocently.

“Well, if you don’t watch it, I won’t let you have _any_.  How about that?” But he was smiling, and Louis knew he wasn’t really mad.  Still, he didn’t want to risk being deprived of bacon, so he planted one last kiss on Liam’s ear and let go.

“Love you.”

“Go get some bread and pop it in the toaster, will you?”  Liam asked, trying to pretend he wasn’t blushing.  Louis obliged, whistling to himself.

In the end, they split the bacon, fifty-fifty, and Louis didn’t complain because Liam made him fried eggs exactly how he liked them, and then didn’t comment when Louis took the yolks he’d kept perfectly intact and smashed them with his fork to spread on his toast.

It was January, and they had somehow (miraculously) been given a whole week off. Zayn had immediately jetted off to be with Perrie in L.A., where she was playing a few shows. Niall and Harry were staying cozy together in Harry’s flat. Louis and Liam had been unsure, at first, what they wanted to do, but then Liam had mentioned offhand that he’d love to learn to ski, and Louis had heard from one of his American friends about this cute resort in Vermont that had pretty good skiing. In a spur-of-the-moment decision (fueled in large part by boredom and alcohol), they had rented a little cabin right near the mountain, bought a week’s worth of lift tickets, and hopped on a plane, and now here they were: holed up together eating bacon in Sugarbush, Vermont. They’d gone skiing the past three days, but today they’d agreed to stay in, especially considering the huge snowstorm that was supposed to hit this afternoon. It had been flurrying off and on since the middle of the night, not too bad, but way more than they ordinarily got in London.

Louis got up to go get dressed, saying he ought to shovel their walk before the snow got too high, in case they needed to go out. When he returned, he grabbed Liam by the wrist and pulled him along to the door.

“I never got that kiss,” he said, his eyes dancing.  Liam raised his eyebrows and dodged Louis’ advances, instead opening the closet and blocking him with the door.

“Here, put this on, it’s cold,” he said, holding up a coat.  It was actually his own, a big, puffy one that Louis had gotten him for Christmas after he’d reminisced about the giant coats of his childhood.  Louis smiled and obliged, sliding his arms into the sleeves before lunging again, but Liam dodged a second time, laughing, and reached in quickly to zip him up.  Louis kept trying, but in vain: Liam was a boxer and Louis was not, and Liam wasn’t restricted by the coat, so he had no trouble ducking and weaving and avoiding Louis as he forced one, then two gloves onto his hands and a hat onto his head, laughing the whole time.

“ _Li_ -am!”  Louis whined, giving up and just standing still.  Liam only laughed and held up his boots.

“Snow’s pretty deep out there,” he said.  Louis rolled his eyes and pouted but obediently stepped into his boots.

“I’m not five, you know,” he grumbled.

“I know,” Liam said, throwing a scarf around Louis’ neck, then pulling on the ends until Louis was inches away from him. “I don’t snog five-year-olds.”

And at last he kissed him.  Louis smiled triumphantly against his lips, which only made Liam press harder, pushing Louis up against the door and wrapping his arms around Louis’ snowsuited bulk.

“I love you,” Louis murmured when they broke for air, the words sweet on his lips.  Liam smiled and leaned in to kiss him again.

It was fifteen minutes later that Louis finally got out the door, a shovel in his hand and his face flushed before he even hit the winter air.

Liam got dressed and did the dishes, watching Louis out the window. Sometimes he wondered how he could have gotten so lucky. He and Louis fit together so well. Louis helped Liam loosen up, let him release some of the tension that would build up from his constant fretting and worrying, and in return Liam kept Louis anchored, brought him back to earth when he was at his maddest. They played well off of each other, their differences complementing rather than clashing. And Louis put up with Liam’s caution, the fact that he was just that much less sure of himself than Louis was. He didn’t mind that Liam had taken longer to feel comfortable with the idea of a relationship between them, or that Liam had wanted to take things slow at first rather than rushing in headlong, as Louis tended to do. He was patient when Liam was hesitant to tell anybody, even the lads. It had helped that, around the same time, Niall and Harry just showed up to practice one day and announced that the two of them were together. Louis had gently persuaded him that he had nothing to worry about, and, about a month after they first started dating, they’d told Zayn, Harry and Niall, one at a time to help ease Liam’s nerves. And Louis didn’t even say “I told you so” when they all accepted it easily.

While Liam was drying the dishes, Niall called, just to check in. He and Harry were keeping themselves occupied back in London, he said, but they still missed Liam and Louis and Zayn. Plus, they’d heard about the storm. Were Liam and Louis going to be okay?

Liam assured him that they were, and he was just beginning to ask about how Niall and Harry were doing, when Harry snatched the phone from Niall to talk to Liam himself. Liam leaned against the counter and listened to the ensuing tussle, which ended with the sounds of kissing and murmured, laughing “I love you”s. This went on for a few minutes before Harry and Niall remembered that Liam was still there. Niall picked the phone up again and quickly wished Liam and Louis luck with their snowstorm, but now he had to go deal with his ridiculous boyfriend. (“I’m not ridiculous!” “Yes, you are.” “Am not! If I’m ridiculous, you’re ridiculous.”)

Something hit the window and Liam jumped. He looked up to see snow sliding down the glass and, behind it, Louis, about ten feet away, grinning and kneeling to form another snowball. He motioned for Liam to come outside, then lobbed the second missile, this time hitting the windowsill. Liam smiled.

“Look, lads, I’ve got to go. Call you later, yeah?”

He hung up on Harry and Niall’s bickering, going to don his coat and mittens and join Louis outside.

Liam lost the ensuing snowball fight, but not without getting in several good shots square to Louis’ face. And Liam couldn’t really complain, not when his losing meant Louis straddling him in a snowdrift, warming his frozen lips with sloppy kisses.

“I love you,” Louis murmured as he came up for air.

_Say it_ , Liam urged himself. _Just say it!_

He laughed and pulled Louis back down for another kiss.

When they finally made it back inside, they stripped out of their wet snowsuits and wandered around the cottage in boxers. Louis made some chicken noodle soup, which they ate cuddled up on the couch in front of the fire that Liam built up. They played FIFA for a bit, but Louis kept winning at that, too, so eventually Liam just gave up, crossing his arms and sitting back against the couch with a huff.

“Aw, babe, don’t be upset,” Louis said. “It’s not my fault I’m good at _everything_.”

“You’re not good at _everything_ ,” Liam grumped.

Louis knew Liam didn’t mean anything in particular by that, but he wanted to tease him, so he said,

“What, are you insinuating that I’m not good in bed, then?”

But Liam only raised his eyebrows and returned, “Maybe.”

“Well, _maybe_ we shouldn’t shag anymore then.” Louis turned away, crossing his arms and letting out an exaggerated huff. Liam laughed, and Louis knew he’d won.

“Oh, don’t be stupid,” Liam said, turning Louis back around so he could kiss him. “Of course we should shag. Why else am I with you?”

“And here I thought it was my charming personality and stunning good looks.”

“Those too,” Liam allowed. “Now are you going to kiss me or not?”

Louis chose the first option, snaking his arms around Liam’s waist and pulling him close. His hands found the twin indents on the small of Liam’s back and he fitted his fingertips to them, loving the warmth and softness of Liam’s skin against his own.

“For the record,” he murmured, as Liam left his lips to trail kisses down his jaw, “I’m fucking _fantastic_ in bed.”

Liam chuckled against his neck. “Yeah? Care to prove that?”

\---

They ordered pizza from the one place in town that was still delivering in the snow, and made sure to tip the delivery boy extra. Louis wanted to eat the pizza in front of the television, too, but Liam insisted that they set the table and have a real meal. Louis acquiesced with a fond smile and a little “I love you,” delivered as he went into the kitchenette to fetch a couple plates.

_Say it back_ , Liam urged himself. _C’mon, it’s not that hard. “I love you, too.” Just say it!_

“Would you get a knife, too? They cut these slices way too big.”

“Sure, baby.”

Louis came back in carrying two plates and a pizza cutter he found in one of the drawers. He kissed Liam on the cheek and finished setting the table. Liam smiled half-heartedly, too focused on cursing his own cowardice. Why, _why_ , was this so difficult? He could forgive himself for the first time he froze—they’d been on the flight from London to Vermont when Louis had murmured those three little words just as he was falling asleep, wrapped up in a sweatshirt and an airline blanket with only his face showing. So Liam couldn’t really hold himself responsible for sitting there, shocked and tongue-tied, and not shaking Louis awake to say “I love you, too.” But Louis had kept saying it: in the line to rent their skis, when they went out to dinner and had to get a private room so as to avoid being mobbed, as they lay in a sweaty, tangled mess of limbs and sheets just before falling asleep at night. And Liam always found himself unable to say it back. But _why?_ It should have been easy—clearly it was easy for Louis, and Harry and Niall evidently had no qualms. So why could Liam not just say it? “I love you, too.” It was not that hard. He _did_ love Louis, didn’t he?

“Li? Are you all right?” Louis reached across and held Liam’s hand beside the open pizza box.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

The storm had picked up outside, and now the wind was howling, throwing snow against the windows as though it was trying to break in.

“You sure? Is something bothering you?”

“No, I—” _Say it. Say it now._ “Louis, I—”

The lights flickered and went out.

“Shoot,” Louis muttered, “Must be the storm.” He moved to get up. “I’ll go find a flashlight or— _shit!_ ”

There was the sound of breaking glass and quiet cursing: Louis had accidentally knocked his water glass off the table and it had shattered on the floor.

“Aw, dammit!”

“Are you okay?” Liam whipped his phone out and used the screen to light what little he could. “You didn’t cut yourself, did you?”

Louis sighed. “No, no, I’m fine. I’ll clean this up, hang on.”

He pulled out his own phone and lit his way back into the kitchen, then returned with a flashlight and the rubbish bin from under the sink.

“Would you mind grabbing some paper towels, babe? I don’t have enough hands.”

Liam obliged. He handed the whole roll to Louis, who was now kneeling and gingerly picking up the shards of glass by the beam of his flashlight. Liam chewed on his fingernail, steeling himself. _Now!_ He took a deep breath.

“Louis, I love you.”

“Hm?”

Liam released his breath, his heart thudding in his chest.

“I love you.”

Louis nodded, dropping the last of the glass into the bin and tearing off a wad of paper towels to mop up the water.

“I know. I love you, too.”

Liam first had to comprehend that he’d done it, he’d really done it, he’d _finally_ said it; he had to accept that before he could even register what Louis had said.

“Wait, you know?”

Louis finished cleaning up and stood to take the bin back into the kitchen. “Of course, darling.”

He brushed his fingertips down Liam’s cheek, giving him the lightest of kisses as he passed. Liam sat down heavily, frowning, churning Louis’ words over in his head. Louis lit a few candles and set them on the table before sitting back down himself. He resumed eating, but Liam sat chewing on his fingernails, thinking.

“But, Lou.”

“Yeah?”

“ _How_ do you know? I mean, I never—”

Louis laughed.

“Liam,” he said, putting his pizza down and taking Liam’s hand in his, “I know because I know _you_. You and I, we’re really different. I say whatever I’m thinking, all the time. I have no filter. But you’re cautious. You always think about everything you say. You’re better about that than I am. And sometimes you maybe over-think things a little, and it keeps you from saying stuff that I wouldn’t even hesitate for.”

He rubbed the back of Liam’s hand with his thumb, looking at him between the candles.

“So you don’t always say things as readily as I do. But you _show_ them. Li, I _say_ I love you, but you _show_ it. You always know when I’m upset and why, and what to do to fix things; you make me breakfast and wear my clothes and kiss me when I don’t expect it; you let me drag you into crazy schemes and you have snowball fights with me and you let me win at everything. Liam, I never _doubted_ that you loved me just as much as I love you. And I love you a whole lot, baby. A whole fucking lot.”

He squeezed Liam’s hand with both of his, smiling that soft little smile of his, that smile that Liam loved so much.  Liam was speechless for a bit, trying to think of something, anything, to say in response. Then he realized that maybe he didn’t have to.

Liam came around the table and gently took Louis’ face in both of his hands. Louis looked up at him, still smiling that smile, his lips turned up even as Liam kissed them, slowly, again and again and again.

“I love you,” Liam said, in between kisses. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” And then, “Louis. Louis, Louis, Louis. I love you.”

And Louis said it right back, “I love you” and “Liam” and “Liam” and “I love you,” until they were both out of breath, and Louis stood so he could properly wrap his arms around Liam and pull him in close.

The wind howled and the storm raged, and even though the power was out and, come morning, they would probably be snowed in, Liam didn’t much care, because Louis loved him and he loved Louis, and apart from that, nothing really mattered.


End file.
